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“Now,” Miss Holloway said, after the papers were signed and tucked into her reticule, “let me introduce you to a potential candidate.”
“Already?” Reggie widened his eyes.
“I am very efficient.” Miss Holloway rolled her chair toward a woman in a pistachio-colored dress, and Reggie hurried after her, impressed by Miss Holloway’s speed.
Miss Holloway chatted a bit with the woman, and Reggie hung back awkwardly. Finally, Miss Holloway gestured toward him, and he approached.
“This is the duke I was telling you about,” Miss Holloway remarked.
“Indeed.” Reggie eyed Miss Holloway’s companion uneasily.
He could see why Miss Holloway had chosen to introduce Reggie to her. Reggie might not be an expert on female attire, but anyone could see this woman’s dress was expensive. It shimmered and shone under the six-hour candles. Her dark hair had been wrangled into an impressive up-do that made him hope her lady’s maid was well compensated, and she possessed a regal air that even royals might envy.
“Miss Eugenia Sinclair is new to Bath,” Miss Holloway said after she’d finished the formal introductions.
“Ah, that is an experience we share,” Reggie said gallantly, thankful for the conversation topic. “Tell me, Miss Sinclair, what do you make of Bath?”
“I find it dreary,” Miss Sinclair said. “So many hills. So many sick people.” She shot an apologetic look toward Miss Holloway, who pasted a polite smile on her face.
“You don’t have a cold do you, Miss Holloway?” Reggie asked.
Miss Holloway shook her head slowly, and he loved the smile that played upon her lips. Perhaps everyone was prone to seeing Miss Holloway as sick, even though she was livelier than most of the people in this ball put together. He doubted any of the women here were forming their own businesses to achieve independence.
“I much prefer London,” Miss Sinclair said.
“That is a common opinion.” He’d thought the same exact things when he’d arrived in Bath.
“His Grace has a townhouse in London,” Miss Holloway said.
“That’s true,” Reggie said.
Miss Sinclair’s eyes sparkled. “Don’t you miss it? Visiting Vauxhall? Shopping on Bond Street?”
“I—” He hesitated and shot a glance at Miss Holloway. “I’m finding that Bath has its charms.”
Miss Sinclair frowned slightly.
“Of course he misses it,” Miss Holloway said hastily, as if attempting to fix the conversation. “That’s what he told me.”
“I do like large cities,” Reggie agreed.
Miss Sinclair nodded, evidently assuaged by his comment.
“Anyway...” Miss Holloway said hastily. “It was lovely speaking with you, Miss Sinclair.”
Miss Sinclair curtsied, though she didn’t say anything.
Reggie felt a wave of irritation on Miss Holloway’s behalf. He followed her to the fireplace, then settled on a chair beside her.
“Well, that was Miss Sinclair,” Miss Holloway said “Wasn’t she pretty?”
“If you like brunettes with big bosoms,” Reggie said.
Miss Holloway blinked. “But surely you do.”
“I—” Reggie hesitated. “Yes. Of course. She was beautiful. You picked well.”
Miss Holloway beamed.
“But I’m not marrying her,” Reggie said stubbornly.
Miss Holloway’s face fell. “Why?”
“I found her unpleasant,” Reggie said, lowering his voice.
“Oh.” She blinked. “I—er—rather thought that too. I thought that was simply me.”
“It wasn’t.”
Miss Holloway sighed. “Though I do agree with Miss Sinclair. London is nicer.”
“You mustn’t say that too loudly,” Reggie said.
Miss Holloway shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Are you a Vauxhall enthusiast?” Reggie’s eyes glimmered. It was easy to imagine Miss Holloway being entranced by all the lights.
Her face pinkened. “There’s much of London I haven’t seen, including Vauxhall. But the streets are flatter, and I don’t worry about my maid having to push me. More people are in London. So many of the population here changes, depending on who happens to have an elderly aunt who requires companionship.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“I know the buildings are beautiful, but—”
“They’re not that varied?” he asked.
She stared at him and smiled. “Precisely.”
His heart warmed.
She giggled. “See, I can complain about Bath.”
The night continued on, and Reggie’s heart warmed as he continued his conversation with Miss Holloway.
*
VIOLINS AND CELLOS continued to play languidly inside her mind, and Daisy had the odd sensation she was floating as she contemplated her conversation with the duke. Last night had gone perfectly.
Daisy could hardly wait to find a prospect for the duke.
In truth, she might have exaggerated her abilities. She didn’t yet know who would make the best wife for him. That would involve more investigation to see who was currently in Bath.
After Mrs. Powell dressed her, Daisy settled at her desk.
“Are you going to write some letters?” Mrs. Powell asked.
“I thought it was time for me to see some of my unmarried friends,” Daisy said. “Could you please bring me the society pages?”
Mrs. Powell nodded and exited the room. She soon reappeared with Bath’s society pamphlet, and Daisy took it eagerly.
“I didn’t know you had any unmarried friends still in Bath,” Mrs. Powell said. “You’ve matched them all.”
“I have to make them first.”
Mrs. Powell’s eyes widened, but Daisy only smiled. Life would be most dull if Daisy had never been forward. Daisy was accustomed to inviting people to her home, and most people were grateful for her forwardness. Bath had a propensity to be dull.
“Do you think Cook will be able to arrange an afternoon tea party for Saturday?”
“I’m certain that’s possible.”
“Good.” Daisy opened the society pages and scanned the names.
Most fathers with money would be happy for their daughters to be elevated to the status of duchess. Still, no one would praise her matchmaking skills if the duke attended each ball with the same dour glance. That was the sort of expression that might make people think him unhappy.
Besides, she wanted the duke to be happy. She wanted everyone to be happy. Misery was a state too easily achieved and too unpleasant to languish in. If the duke no longer cast mournful gazes about the room, so much the better.
He required a wife who would distract him from any sudden melancholic urges, but he also needed someone who would understand him should he decide that a day deserved a sullen approach. There was no use marrying him to someone who would tell him to “smile” in an exasperated manner, so she could be spared discussing the day with him.
No, Daisy vowed to ascertain the duke married the very best woman there was.
That was the best way to make him happy, and though it was important for her to begin a career, his happiness was of equal importance.
She scanned the list, then began to compose her first letter.
*
THE TEA PARTY CAME quickly. Daisy waited for the guests to arrive. Some of them she’d seen before at the spa, though they’d been keeping their relatives company and speaking amongst themselves while Daisy had been rolled into the spa with a group of gray-haired women. An odd nervousness moved through her.
One of these women would be spending a great deal of time with the duke, and Daisy pushed away a strange surge of jealousy.
“I’m so pleased you could come here,” Daisy said. “Welcome to Bath.”
The women nodded. A few of them cast sideways glances at Daisy’s chair, as if they’d never seen one with wheels before.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t stand,” Daisy said.
A few of the women tittered awkwardly, but Daisy gestured toward the sofa and various armchairs. The room felt rather narrower than normal, and Daisy was suddenly self-conscious about the shabbiness of the furniture.
Daisy had the faint suspicion they wouldn’t all have agreed to come if they’d been in London, where a plethora of other activities were always occurring. Daisy’s family was sufficiently respectable—her parents were in the ton after all. Even the haughtiest women, aware of Daisy’s parents’ positions, would be allowed to visit. The general tiresomeness of spending long days at the spa with their invalid relatives ensured their presence.
Daisy surveyed them surreptitiously, pondering who might make an appropriate bride for the duke. He deserved the best. The women were all tall and beautiful, and a faint lump formed in Daisy’s throat. She hastily dismissed it.
She wouldn’t become attached to a client. That would be foolish and unprofessional, and Daisy had resolved to not be either of those things. She pasted a smile on her face and began to make conversation, watching for similarities between the women and the duke.